


Seasons of Grief

by strangetydes



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Gen, Jack's sister is the main character, My goal was to make YOU cry, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-21
Updated: 2016-01-21
Packaged: 2018-05-15 07:19:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5776618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strangetydes/pseuds/strangetydes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The seasons passed quickly for Sally the year after Jack died. </p>
<p>Author's Note: My primary goal was to make the reader (that's YOU, most definitely) cry after reading this story. My secondary goal was to get someone (that *could* be you) to read this story. Let me know if I succeeded with either of those.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seasons of Grief

AUTUMN leaves engulfed her as more descended from above her head. Sally laughed and made another attempt to escape the giant leaf pile.

“Oh no, you don’t,” Jack said. He scooped her up, only to toss her back onto the heap. She shrieked as more and more leaves rained down upon her.

“Jack, enough, enough,” Sally pleaded between giggles. Her older brother stopped his assault, but a twinkle remained in his brown eyes. She learned at a young age that that twinkle meant Jack still had more tricks up his sleeve. With the leaves crinkling and crunching under her shoes, Sally stood. She simultaneously brushed leaves off her brown and red dress while holding a small handful of them behind her back.

She took a small step closer to him. “Do you think it is going to snow soon?” she asked. Grinning, Jack raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t fooled but glanced up to examine the clouds anyway.

“I don’t think s—“ Sally raced forward, threw the leaves into his face, and turned to run away. She was no match for his long arms and reflex. Jack snagged her and rubbed his own handful of leaves into her hair. Once her brown strands were thoroughly tangled, he let her go.

“You ruined my hair…” Sally whined as she straightened her bangs. She sent a small glare in her brother’s direction.

His grin widened. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. How about I make it up to you? I promise I’ll take you skating after the first snowfall.” He was quickly rewarded with a smile back.

“Fine. As the mature one, I’ll forgive you.”

“Good,” Jack said before reaching out and pushing her back into the leaf pile.

* * *

WINTER nights brought a chill wind that numbed her body to its core, but Sally’s eyes burned with warm tears that particular winter night. Her smaller frame rattled with each sob, and she wrapped her arms tighter around her mother’s neck. Mama answered her daughter’s hug with a small squeeze around her waist and continued to carry her back home, away from the lake holding Jack’s body.

Papa had stayed behind, staring solemnly at the broken hole in the ice, and desperately wishing he could carry his only son back home too. By the time Sally ran back home screaming for help, it was too late. Her mother had rushed with her back to the lake in the woods while her grandmother ran to fetch her father and more help. The men arrived, but they were too heavy. A paper-thin layer of ice already formed over the hole that swallowed Jack. Even the thickest ice on the lake’s surface threatened to crack beneath their feet barring all rescue attempts to reach the point where he fell.

The moon shone brightly, high in the sky, when Papa finally came home. Grandmother sat quietly near the fire holding a half-embroidered quilt yet the old woman had not moved her needle all night. Sally fell asleep crying in Mama’s lap while the woman held her daughter in the same fashion a scared child clutches her favorite doll. Fresh tears swelled in her eyes at her husband’s entrance, but she remained silent in an effort to not wake Sally. The man pulled a chair next to hers and held his wife’s hand tightly while he also silently cried, resting his head on her shoulder.

The worst part was that Jack’s family had to wait until after the winter thaw to retrieve his body.

* * *

SPRING grass emerged triumphantly through the last stubborn bits of melting snow. Sally sat in the wooden doorway and waited for her father to bring Jack home. She stared glumly outside daring the grass to grow another inch. Inside, Mama and Grandmother fussed about the cabin completing every possible chore in order to keep busy.

Sally hadn’t moved since Papa left them that morning. She just sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms clasped underneath them. At one point, she did remember her mother trying to coax her inside for a midday meal, but Sally’s stomach felt like a tangle of twisted knots. Food was the last thing on her mind. That day kept replaying over and over in her head. Part of her hoped this was only a nightmare...or maybe some sort of joke. Any moment her brother would reappear swinging from a nearby tree and laughing about the horrible, horrible trick he played.

She ignored everything around her. Men chopping wood. Womenfolk chattering away while they gathered water and washed clothes. Neighborhood children giggling in the schoolhouse through their teacher’s droning. Her mother and grandmother clattering about within the house. The freshly dug grave behind the village church. The headstone with her brother’s name on it.

Her father leaving with three men and an empty wooden casket.  

He returned home at nightfall with the same three men and a still empty casket. They had tried dredging the pond with nets but found no remains of Jack's body. Her father said animals, scavenging for meat, could have dragged the corpse away. At this point in the conversation, Mama sat down; her face was drained of color. Sally had never seen her look so ill. She has never seen Papa look so grim. The other men left, agreeing to meet tomorrow to scour the surrounding forest for any trace of her brother.

The next day, Papa left with a larger group in the bright morning light and returned just after dusk. They found nothing. Her family had nothing to bury.

She didn’t know what would have been worse: burying her brother or living with the hope that maybe they didn’t find his body because he was still out there. Somewhere.

* * *

SUMMER sunshine flooded the hilltop field which was filled to the brim with daisies. The yellow button at the center of each flower aquired a bright cheery hue while their petals were the purest white Sally had ever seen. The view would have taken her breath away if she wasn’t so busy leaning on her knees and sucking in huge gulps of air.

Sally and Jack would come here every summer once the flower field bloomed.  It was one of her favorite places, but Mama would never allow her to go alone. She loved weaving daisy chains and waiting for sunset to turn all the flower petals a bright orange. Meanwhile, her big brother could never sit still. He would climb a nearby tree or do cartwheels and flips. He’d invariably find the biggest stick around and fight invisible foes, dramatically narrating  the epic battle. Sally sometimes laughed so hard that it took her five tries to make one daisy crown.

Near nightfall, Jack would help her find flowers to make a bouquet for their mother. They’d make a game of critiquing each other’s flowers until they assembled the perfect arrangement. Mama’s face always lit up when they walked through the door, their arms full with the giant bouquet and loop upon loop of daisy chains.

Today, she sat alone and the field was quiet. Her mother would be angry that she wandered off by herself. Again. She was due for a yelling the moment she walked through the door. She grabbed her first flower and plucked the petals off one by one.

It wasn’t fair. Her parents never let her be alone. They had to know where she was every minute of each day. This was all Jack’s fault. She hated him. She was tired of missing him.

“He should be here,” she shouted aloud, throwing away the flowers in her hand. “That IDIOT. It’s all his fault. He should be here!”

Tears were streaming down her face. The more she thought about her brother, the more petals she ripped off of every flower within reach. Eventually, a circle of ripped broken stems surrounded her.

When sunset came, she returned home empty handed.

* * *

AUTUMN wind brushed through the forest’s tree branches combing them for loose leaves. Sally watched several fly free and dance in the air. Their fallen companions, crinkled and brown, crunched beneath each step she took, and the sun shone brightly highlighting the vibrant reds and yellows of the leaves that persevered on the trees despite the wind. She stopped her slow walk through the forest and stood memorized by the colors of the swaying leaves. A year ago she’d have gathered every leaf she could find into a gigantic pile. A year ago Jack would have been here helping her.

The sound of laughter and one horrendous shriek pulled her from her thoughts. She recognized the shriek as belonging to her cousin Jane and one of the laughing voices had to be Jane’s brother, Thomas. He never strayed far from his big sister despite the many days that Jane desperately wished he would. Sally’s legs ran towards the voices before her head realized which direction they were coming from. Her eyes focused first on the sight of Jane being pulled along by two teenagers before they focused in on the pond behind them. Jack’s pond.

Thomas was nearby but not among those laughing, instead tears were leaking from his eyes. A third taller teenager held the collar of his brown vest in a tight grip and jerked him backwards each time Thomas tried running towards his sister. The other two teenagers, a boy and a girl, each held one of Jane’s arms and were slowly walking backwards--dragging Jane forwards--to the water’s edge. Jane dug her heels into the mud, and dirt stained the hem of her striped blue dress. She furiously shook her head whipping her long hair into her tormentors’ faces.

Sally didn’t know their names, but she recognized their faces. Jack had played pranks on those three in the past. Then again, the majority of the villagers have found themselves at the end of one of Jack’s pranks before this year. There was not a single prank at all this year.

The teenage girl yanked Jane’s arm harder. “Come on Jane-y,” she crooned. “Your big cousin Jack is all lonely. Don’t you wanna say ‘hi’ to him?”

“No, NO!” Jane screamed. “Let me go!”

The other teenager next to her laughed. “That’s right. Jack’s all cold and alone at the bottom of the pond. He wants some company.”

“He misses you, Jane-y,” the girl added. The pond was less than two feet away.

Thomas spun around and tried kicking his captor but the stronger teen held him at arm’s length. His feet met only air. “Leave her alone!” the young boy shouted.

The teenager’s face twisted into a cruel smile. “Relax, kiddo. Your sister’s only gonna get a little bit wet.” He paused, his eyebrows raising in thought. “Or maybe she’ll find Jack’s head down there? I heard that your uncle and the townsmen never recovered a single body part.”

A gasp escaped Sally’s throat at that last statement, the noise prompting the teen to turn his head. He cussed and released Thomas who stumbled a few steps before regaining his balance.

“Sally,” shouted Thomas, shocked at her sudden appearance. She had refused to go near the pond since Jack’s death. His shout drew the other teenagers’ attention. Distracted, the two loosened their grips on Jane’s arms. Still struggling, Jane yanked herself completely free of their hands only to fall backwards into the mud at their feet. She yelped in pain as her back hit the ground and wet dirt soaked into her blond locks. A heavy silence overtook the small clearing with the three teenagers frozen at the sight of Sally; no one knew what action to take. Tears blurred Sally’s vision and left tracks down her face. She had been crying ever since the older girl had mentioned Jack’s name.

Sally hiccuped.

The teenage girl took a step forward around Jane and towards her. “Now---”

“No no no no no,” her companion said tugging her back. “Messing with Jack’s cousins is one thing, but we cannot touch a dead man’s sister. Overland WILL kill us.” He hissed the last few words and his eyes bulged when mentioning Sally’s father.  “I’m done here.” The teenager took off running towards the village. The other teen near Thomas immediately followed his friend’s lead, running a few paces behind him.

“Wait!” the older girl shouted. With a quick glance down at Jane then one at Sally, she sprinted away.

The tears fell faster down Sally’s cheeks. She wanted to run to Jane and help her cousin stand, but her feet were frozen. She couldn’t take a step closer to that pond. She was helpless. Her sobs grew louder, though Sally tried to muffle them with her hand. Every fear born from the past year swirled around her head, gaining momentum and tangling her thoughts. This was all her fault. If she hadn’t stepped on the ice. If she hadn’t made Jack promise. If she hadn’t...then Jack would still…

“I’m sorry.” The apology slipped from her lips. She didn’t know if it was directed towards Jack or Jane.

Panic unfurled across Thomas’s face as Sally cried harder. “Jane, Sally’s--she’s crying--she won’t stop crying,” he shouted, looking terrified that if he stepped closer to Sally then she’d explode into even more tears. Jane sat up and, wincing slightly, staggered to her feet. She only took a second to remove a fistful of mud from a clump of hair before hurrying up the slight incline of terrain. She headed first to her brother--grabbed his arm and whispered a few short words--and second to her crying cousin. Thomas ran off with his sister’s message and a visible handprint of dirt on his yellow shirtsleeve.

“I’m sorry.” Sally repeated. She rubbed agitatedly at her eyes, wanting to squelch the tears before they escaped. She couldn’t stop crying. “I’m sorry.”

Jane grabbed her wrists and pulled them away from Sally’s face. “Why are you saying ‘Sorry’? You didn’t attack me and Thomas. You didn’t do anythin--”

“It’s my fault! It’s my fault Jack’s dead and my fault they attacked you! If it wasn’t for me, Jack would have never gone to the pond.”

“But you and Jack were always first to the pond after the first snowfall. Ever since I can remember,” Jane reasoned. “Nothing would’ve changed that! You didn’t force him. Auntie said it was just a warm winter. No one knew the ice was so thin. It’s not your fault. No one _knew_.”

Sally shook her head and yanked her wrists away from Jane. “Leave me alone. You don’t understand. Your brother’s not dead!” Her vision was watery and blurred, but she caught Jane’s eyes widening.

She was quiet and studied her dirtied dress, thinking of a response while Sally continued to cry. At a loss, Jane finally said, “You’re wrong...and I’m not going away.”

Jane stayed with her until Thomas came running back followed closely by Sally’s mother. Echoing Sally’s last visit to the pond, the woman carried the sobbing girl back home. Jane trailed behind them with a tight grip on Thomas’s hand.

* * *

WINTER snow blanketed the entire village and didn't stop for days. When Papa had announced the first snowfall of the season at breakfast, Sally’s appetite shrank. She returned to bed and her warm covers absolutely refusing to venture outside. She imagined she was a black bear and could sleep away the entire season; she’d wake up after the snow had melted and flower buds had sprouted. When her father announced that the snow continued to fall for the third day, her family could no longer spare her feelings or a set of able-working hands. The town needed every available person to avoid being buried beneath the white snow.

By the fifth day of snowfall and her second day outdoors in it, the numbness of her arms and legs finally matched that in her heart. She felt cold. And tired. No amount of gloves, scarves, or blankets could warm her up. She had the same icy chills sitting by the fireplace as she did outside. Why couldn’t she just curl up in bed? She didn’t care about removing the snow or covering farm equipment. Sally halfheartedly kicked a newly-cut log in the woodpile beside her cabin. The soft blow partially dislodged the two inches of snow that covered it last night.

“Sally…” came Papa’s warning tone. She glanced up at the man perched on the top rung of the ladder that she was supposed to be holding still. Last night, the roof had creaked under the weight of the accumulated snow, so this morning her father swept a broom side to side to knock it off. A few times already in the past hour, Sally had dodged falling clumps of wet snow from hitting her head.

Mama was busily inspecting the outer wood of their cabin for damage. The snow didn't arrive alone; a thick layer of frost covered the bark of nearby trees and the exposed exteriors of every structure in the neighborhood. She saw her neighbors doing the same as her parents: clearing their roofs and inspecting the outside of their homes. Villagers used shovels and buckets to remove snow from around their collective cabins and town square. A group of older children were digging out the communal fire pit in the square’s center.

Jack would’ve loved this amount of snow with so many easy targets in sight.

She sighed and watched the resulting puff of white air dissipate. The sky was an endless sea of pale gray clouds. This current break in the weather wouldn’t last for long. Leaning back against the ladder, she closed her eyes. The snow muffled everything even the sounds of everyday life. People barely talked above a murmur. The forest was silent. Not a fox rustled branches, not a bird chirped, and not a single insect _bizzed_ in the air. She only heard the rhythmic shoveling of snow; the white powder was shifted, brushed, thrown, crunched.

_Phhfoomp._

Sally yelped as an icy splash of snow hit her head and knocked her hat sideways. “Papa!” she admonished, righting her hat and glaring up at him.

“Sorry, sweetie,” he replied. Her eyes narrowed. Her father didn’t look very sorry. The corners of his mouth were slightly upturned and his eyes were twinkling silently at her. His mischievous face was an exact echo of Jack’s the second after he pulled off a trick but before the unfortunate victim comprehended what just happened. Mama always said Jack had his father’s eyes.

“That was on purpose,” she accused. She felt her temper rising as her mood darkened like the midday clouds overhead. She clenched her teeth and her upper lip lifted in a snarl.

_Thhwack._

Sally yelped again at the explosion of coldness that hit the back of her head successfully knocking off her hat. She saw bright blue sparkles dance in front of her eyes.

She whirled around to confront the culprit. “Wha...Mama!” Her mother innocently looked up from studying the frost patterns on a cabin window pane.

She barely had a chance to point her finger in blame before another snowball smacked her from behind, square between her shoulder blades. It knocked the wind from her lungs. More blue sparkles swirled in Sally’s eyesight. She spun back around.

“Papa!”

Her father quickly held his hands up in mock surrender. “I didn’t throw that.” _Shwwack._ A snowball smacked him upside the head and left white crumbs on his hair and shoulders.

“But I threw that one!” yelled Grandmother. The old woman peered around her chosen shield: the tree with the thickest trunk and closest to the cabin. “Quick, Sally dear. The war is starting and no soldier should be without cover and ammunition. Join me!” She punctuated the statement with throwing another snowball at her son. He dodged it this time.

A giddiness bubbled in her chest and a smile broke out on her face. Sally ran towards her grandmother who assisted her retreat with a barrage of snowballs arching over the girl’s head. Once shielded behind the trunk and pine needles of the evergreen’s lowest branches, she spied the old woman’s ready-made pile of snowballs.

Papa laughed grabbing her mother and pulling them both behind the far side of the cabin for cover. One of her grandmother’s snowballs grazed the wall of the cabin just before the bend of the corner where they’d hidden.

“Be careful of hitting the windows!” Mama shouted.

“No time to care for the windows, Mary. Winning this fight and defending our honor takes precedence.” Papa said. “Quick! You make the snowballs and I’ll throw them.” He threw a snowball back, striking the branch above Sally’s head. It exploded and showered her in fluffy flakes.

“I’ve never started a battle that I could lose, Son,” Grandmother yelled toward her father. With a quick whoosh, she returned fire and Papa barely had time to avoid it, once again ducking out of sight.

“How dare you turn my own daughter against me, Mother,” he shouted back. Sally could hear the smile in his voice.

Her grandmother released a bark of laughter. “You can’t begrudge the girl for wanting to be on the winning side!”

“We’ll see about that, old woman,” he retorted. Her mother giggled.

“Ooh, he will pay for that insolence,” Grandmother muttered and turned towards her granddaughter. “Shall you continue to be a bystander, or will you help me teach your father a lesson?”

Sally paused in her answer, a shriek drawing her attention away. The older children were using their shovels to throw heaps of snow at each other completely destroying their progress on the buried fire pit. More laughter erupted when one neighbor snuck behind another dumping a bucket of snow on his head. Snowball fights had enveloped the entire town square. The snow couldn’t muffle this sudden burst of life and the forest echoed with their laughter and yelling. That bubbling giddiness in her chest was overflowing and a giggle escaped her lips.

“Teach him a lesson!” she responded, grabbing a snowball and throwing it at the sliver of Papa’s head peeking out from behind the cabin. She missed by a good seven inches.

Her father didn’t even have the decency to pretend to dodge and further emerged from behind the corner. A smirk curled his lips up. “Sweetie, that was path---”

_Thhwack._ Her grandmother struck him straight between the eyes. He fell onto his back, sputtering and clutching his face.

For the first time this year Sally laughed, and she swore she heard Jack laughing with her.

**Author's Note:**

> Huh, I think I had my goals switched...or did I?


End file.
